Happy Birthday
by kathiann
Summary: Birthdays are supposed to be happy times celebrated by friends and family. But for Jane they are only a reminder of what he had done wrong and what he had lost.


**Authors Note: **I was going through the files on my old laptop (I haven't had to use it in over a year) and came across this story. I remember writing it (vaguely) but couldn't find where I had posted it anywhere. It may or may not have been in response to a prompt from somewhere...I'm not really sure. According to the last edited stamp on it I finished it pretty close to midnight on New Years Eve of 2011, so, I don't know. As it's been so long, i honestly don't know if I had someone beta it. Anyway, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it, if you've seen it around before let me know.

**Happy Birthday**

He sat in the attic, on the dusty old couch that had become his new home away from hotel. It was night, or at least it was dark outside. He wasn't sure if that was because it was indeed night time or if it was because it was overcast. He'd not been outside in a few says. Or at least he things it was a few days.

This is a hard time of year for him. Father's Day, Birthdays. They were born on the same day. It's not something that most people want, to share their birthday with someone in their family. But she had. His wife, his loving beautiful wife had been so excited that her birthday was close to the due date of their daughter. And when she went into labor the day before she almost cried. Angela had so wanted to share her special day with their daughter. Being in labor for almost eighteen hours was made worth is when Charlotte was born just three minutes after midnight.

And then Red John had taken it all from him.

And now, June was the time of year that he loathed. It started with a holiday that never failed to remind him that he had failed in his duty to protect his daughter and ended with a reminder that he had lost both of the women he cared about in one fail swoop.

And so he "celebrated". Every year. He didn't by cake, he didn't send gifts. He'd heard of some people who remembered their "lost" family members by donating to charity or helping around the community. But he didn't celebrate like that. He thought about drinking, about other things that would take his mind off the loss he had suffered all those years ago.

Often he thought of revenge. He would make that sick bastard pay for what he had done to his family. He would make that insect, that scum, pay with his life.

In the past he had stayed at his "home" in Malibu, the location of the destruction of everything he had ever worked for, everything he had ever wanted. But this year he'd not been able to muster the energy to go down there.

And so he hid in the attic. He didn't know if any knew he was there, he didn't care. They thought he was "out of town" like he was every year. Or at least he thought they did. He didn't really care.

There wasn't any food in the attic, but he didn't care. There wasn't any water in the attic, but he didn't care. The air was stale, the dust had settled around him for the last time he had moved. He probably had a layer of dust on him as well. Not that he cared.

He closed his eyes, not trying to sleep, but to block out as much sensation as possible. He thought he heard steps outside the door, but he wasn't sure. It could have been his imagination; it could have been his ears playing tricks on him.

And then the door opened. He didn't open his eyes. There was no need. He knew who it was.

"Did you think you could hide up here all day?"

He didn't say anything.

"We've got a case if you're interested. Lisbon sent me to tell you to get your ass down stairs and stop wallowing in self pity. Come solve a crime and prove that Red John didn't win that night."

Still nothing.

"We're here for you. We're your friends. You know we've all lost people too."

And with that Cho was gone. And still Jane laid there.

He didn't know how much time passed when he heard a noise again. Again, he ignored it. Probably another member of the team come to tempt him to come out of his whole, out of his self imposed misery.

This time when the door opened he was surprised at how it was, though he again didn't open his eyes.

"I don't care that you plan to wait your life away, Jane. I don't care that you want to live in misery. I do that myself some days. But I do care that you want to do it in front of us. Go hide at that mausoleum of a house on the beach. Go hide in your hotel room. Don't make us feel guilty for you by sitting here day after day wallowing in self pity."

He was surprised that she stopped for breath.

"You're not the only one who had everything you loved ripped from you by a mad man. You're not the only one who's lost someone you care about. The rest of us manage to soldier on day to day. We don't fall apart. I care about you. The people down stairs care about you. Come, don't come. But know that the longer you stay in here the harder it will be to go out and do anything."

And with that she was gone. He didn't get up, but he moved. Opened his eyes. Thought. It was still hard, it was still painful. But maybe he could get up and celebrate by solving a crime like Cho had suggested. Or he could stay in the attic for another day. And tomorrow wake up and see if he could get up.

And so he waited. And in the gathering darkness a tear trickled down his dust covered face and he whispered to the spirits that surrounded him.

"Happy Birthday my loves. I will make him pay."


End file.
